The days were too long.

Each moment of their dragging existence was cold and bleak - all twenty eight hours of icy hell. The flattened area of settlement, once fields, soon smelt like an ancient bog where the thin covering of grass ripped and was trodden into the earth. New Caprica was a wasteland - frozen at the poles and molten through the equator - the land between fragmented amid shallow sea and low lying mud. It didn't matter how many layers, or the thickness of the Shocak wool, nothing could keep you warm for very long. This was endless, exhausting - more inhospitable even then the vacuum of space above the choked atmosphere.

There was little more than breathable air to recommend this place - something that Laura had known from the beginning. She felt, at least, that tonight may be the first time she could brave the flaking ice at dusk.

The colony had settled as best it could and Baltar, not wanting to burden himself, left the day to day functioning in the hands of the Admiral. This entailed monthly interviews with each new organisation and regular status reports. For the most part - those in question traveled the long distance to see him, but in the case of Laura Roslin, it was he who traveled the furthest.

He dressed for the occasion in his full uniform - hidden beneath layers of insulating material and masked - further still, with a billowing cloak. His definitive, regal atmosphere shrouded in a dark form traipsing across the barren surface toward a small tent on the outskirts of the colony.

It had been three weeks and five days since they'd last seen each other, and with each day made hours longer by the slow rotation of the planet - it seemed like months. (Though the Admiral would not impart how desperately he had looked forward to this night - especially not to her). These were the times that called a leader to be more than strong - it called for unyielding resilience to everything – including the heart.

She greeted him with a gentle smile as he slid off the hood and stepped carefully past her into the tent - his eyes lingering, in earnest briefness, on the warmth of her attention. Inside he found a small fire burning with the blackened frame of a cooking apparatus precariously balanced amongst the flames atop which sat a steaming object.

The Admiral's tired form sank into one of the few seats littered around the small space - she knelt down next to the fire and removed the pot from the frame. "Can I offer you some tea Admiral?"

"Thank you - yes." he watched as her hair fell around her face in the fire-light, it had grown since he had last seen her - deepened its colour to contrast against the bland landscape. She poured the hot liquid in a well practiced manner, handing him the cup before retreating to her own seat across from him. He took a moment to pause, and simply enjoy the gesture.

"You look well - " she said as he finished his drink and, now warmed, removed the extra layers of his attire.

"As do you, though I can't imagine how given this place."

"We manage." she brought her cup close, absorbing its warmth. Laura observed him carefully, "What about you?"

"There's a big empty ship up there you know - two actually, plenty of space..."

For the moment, Laura ignored the comment - its seemingly innocent phrasing re-new-ing the painful memories of her first night on New Caprica. "I have that progress report the President asked for, though it has been a slow start I'm afraid. Parents are still too nervous to let their children far from sight, and those that attend are mostly orphans that are unruly at the best of times."

Laura as teacher - something he had never actually seen, he was too used to her being President. As it turned out, so had she. "Admiral," she began, dismissing all idle talk, "there is already talk of a resistance to Baltar's government amongst the Workers. He has had these men out every day, whether there's rain or sweltering heat - working to build this settlement - which they did initially without fuss or noise, but now they're getting ill, their bodies just can't handle it. This place down here, it's barely habitable and if something isn't done soon - there's not going to be anyone left." Laura placed her drink on the ground beside her, "Bill, things are going to get bad - fast."

Bill thought carefully on his next words, "This, tragic as it may be, leaves us with a curious window of opportunity." He proceeded slowly, not wanting to offend her.

She never took her eyes off him for a moment, her instinct was to be repelled by the suggestion of manipulating human suffering but the president in her was listening very closely. "If I were to be completely honest with you -"

"You can always be honest with me."

Laura blushed slightly, "This has also occurred to me. I took the liberty of speaking, very discreetly, to a few people and I can say, with very near certainty, that we have the beginning of a resistance network incubating under Baltar's neglect."

"He has become a dangerous man Laura. Baltar has been president a week shy of a month and already he hesitates to let the Admiral meet with the ex-president in case they are plotting against him."

"For once - his fears may have a foundation."

Bill suppressed the urge to smile at her, "That they may."

One of those comfortable silences wove in-between the two commanders, neither wanting to quit each other's company yet both keenly aware of the time. Lingering passed the two hour allowance would not be wise, especially at times of political infancy.

Eventually Bill rose, signaling his intent to leave soon. He replaced the layers of clothing with her helping him through the final addition of the coat - Laura's hands moving along his back and around his waist where she shifted to face him - fastening the catch of the cloak. Bill fought to stay focused as the distraction of her soft touch permeated through his clothing. This gentle act of affection a reminder of what could have been in those first weeks before they had resigned themselves to their respective positions of power. He; the Admiral of the fleet and her, Leader of the Resistance and future President of the Colonies.

Her hands did not leave the surface of his jacket; instead her fine hands explored its varying textures. Through this, she did not look at him - her purpose was set on memorising how he felt beneath her. Bill allowed her to do so, his own mind taking in every visual feature it could until he could close his eyes and she smile back at him in perfect likeness.

As the final hour approached its end, Adama unwillingly separated himself and reached the tent door. He could feel the sharp cold through the synthetic exterior and hear the occasional sheet of rain soak into its surface.

"No, don't come out - stay here where it's warm." she nodded, lifting up the flap for him. A month seemed so far away, but it would pass - the hoarfrost would form – crack and splinter before assembling itself once again many a time before he returned. Though he swore, in hushed words to her, that he would return - and she would be here waiting.

With one more look, he ducked under and out into the cold.

From beneath his heavy hood, he begged the gods that Genaris pass quickly – this month having more than done its harm.

*~*

It's funny how we cling to names - as if their meaning contained more than the idle syllables and sounds our ears detect. We believe that by a mere assignment of letters we can change the nature of that which exists. Is it any wonder that when Caprica fell another world retrieved its name and all the chaos trailing behind.

Perhaps it's a fascination with dark irony on our part...

Similarly Febraris, named long ago, bares little resemblance to its original form. On Caprica this time of year had been among the most pleasant - traditionally marking the beginning of the season of hope. Laura could remember the smell of freshly melted snow crystals trickling down the greening valleys and into the suburban areas before the fruit trees came into blossom. On New Caprica, the ice clung more firmly to the earth - casual snow falls transforming the colony into a sparkling ice-city. The citizens huddled inside, their fires melting the snow on the roofs which then settled in large puddles on the ground. A solitary figure braved this hostile environment - her determined stride slipping on the surface.

Darkness approached faster now with the evening shadows already threatening to fall - New Caprica's thick clouds glowing overhead with the faintest hue of pink in the last warmth of their star.

She pulled her jacket tighter as she ducked through the exposed streets between tents, feeling the crumple of paper buried in a pocket. The document she had procured only hours earlier sat safely in her grasp - the ink of fourteen signatures still seeping into the page.

Laura entered her tent to find the Admiral already there, seated by the fire with his nose buried in her book. Speaking technically, it was his book - on loan for her amusement. Laura wanted to smile - he seemed so peaceful, reclined in her tent pretending there was time for such indulgent pleasure.

"Laura," he noticed her peering in on him from the entrance, Bill put the book down and stood at once, "come in out of that before you catch cold."

She obeyed, stepping into the ambience of the tent.

"Here, let me help." he said as he removed her coat - placing it next to his on the stand. She lingered by it for a moment, removing the document from one of its deep pockets.

"So, what's new?" he asked casually, living for as long as possible in the dream.

"This month? Well there are a lot more children coming to school now - truthfully I'm finding it hard to keep track of them all."

"You should hire a helper."

She smiled, "I already have. Things may be settling at last - " she paused.

"But not you?"

Sometimes Laura hated that he could read her like that, "Even if I could believe that the Cylons weren't coming - ever, I still don't like this place. It's not -"

"Earth." he finished.

"Home." she corrected, her eyes falling to her lap.

"What is that?" Bill noted the damaged piece of paper held protectively in her hands.

"Admiral, I'm giving you a chance - " he was still amazed by how quickly she could change her tone on him, "we can sit here, and take our two hours a month to enjoy each others company and talk of how my teaching is progressing - or, we can talk about this;" she held up the document. "Talking about this is not something you should consider lightly - if you're caught, Baltar will not even bother will exile..."

Gods... thought Bill, and here he was thinking he was protecting her.

"I'll take my chances."

She nodded at his permission and extended the document toward him. Upon unfolding it, Bill found the signatures of fourteen people, some he knew well - others he had never heard of. "Is this what I think it is?"

"More than likely." she took out her glasses and reached for the paper back. "That is a list of individuals who will support a take over - hostile or otherwise, of Baltar's government. Provided, of course, that you and I assume command of the colonies after the event."

"Laura, there are only fourteen signatures - I'd hardly call that a 'takeover'."

"Oh believe me, there are more - many more, but signing that document is as good as a death warrant if it falls into the wrong hands. Given more time, I believe I will have no trouble obtaining many more signatures - especially if any more union workers die."

"Yes, I heard about Tom Rainwell."

"His death caused a stir to say the least - Baltar vanished for a full day before facing the angry crowds."

"That man is losing his grip - well and truly."

"It's not his grip I'm worried about, more his relationship with a certain Cylon."

"My inquiry found that the blast on Cloud 9 originated from the area that model was rumoured to live in - it can probably never be proved, but I believe that Baltar gave her that nuclear weapon, from his own lab."

Laura brought her hand lightly to her mouth, "If that's true then he's more dangerous than I thought."

She re-read the scrawled names, a few in particular standing out from the grain of the paper; Commander Lee Adama, Kara Thrace, Colonel Tigh...

"May I?" he reached for it once more - she saw no reason to refuse him.

For a while, she wondered what he was doing ferreting about in his coat - until he withdrew a pen from its depth. "What are you doing?" She craned her neck, concerned.

The Admiral brought the pen into contact with the page and signed his name on the list.

"Admiral - are you sure?"

"I wouldn't have it any other way. And you?"

Laura looked at him and the pen he held toward her. His eyes focused solely on her for the first time in this meeting, and behind their soft exterior, she could see that boyish rebellion shining through. He must have seen the same in her because they both broke into a simultaneous smile. Laura nodded, alighting from her seat and kneeling next to him - close enough for him to smell the soft perfume in her hair. She took the pen from his hand and signed her name beneath his - the paper still resting on his knee.

Their close proximity made them keenly aware of each other. They could hear the other breathe that little bit quicker, stiffening slightly in response to each other.

Two hours was not enough. No where near enough.

Bill found his hand covering hers - still holding the pen. The touch was soft - affectionate, its action made more significant by the sudden lack of dialogue.

Gently, Bill eased the pen from her grasp and entwined his fingers between hers. He tilted his head, rising up to meet the soft skin of her exposed neck.

She leaned into his gentle kiss, cosseting the feel of him on her skin.

"We can't." she finally whispered.

Their two hours had drawn to a close.

*~*

Laura rocked the child gently, her arms encircling its tiny body - protecting it from the dead of winter.

"Sh..." she smiled down at its dark eyes, "There, there. I know it's cold, but you've got to be strong - yes you do."

The child stopped crying as she walked with it across the tent, its tiny expression focused on Laura's soft voice uttering idle delineations of hope and love. The little girl was so small - even four months on, but she was strong. When her tiny hand gripped Laura's thumb it did so with a force that said, 'I'm here' to which Laura would respond with a motherly glow.

Roslin hadn't seen the little girl for several months - her adopted mother keeping the promise to disappear into the general population. But it was three nights ago now that the woman had come to her, having nowhere else to go, and asked if Laura would mind the child whilst she set up permanent living arrangements. Laura had refused her at first, explaining how there could be absolutely no link between them that could cast Baltar's eye to suspicion. The woman had pleaded - Roslin had given in.

She placed the infant under the muddle of blankets inside the basket, waiting patiently next to it until she was sure it would sleep. The child's eyes eventually fluttered closed in the diffuse glow of the room - its surrounds blurring into the shadow of dream. Laura, satisfied that her tasks for the evening were done, laid down on her own makeshift bed - which was really little more than a mattress covered in blankets nestled next to the fire - and promptly slipped into a sleep which had evaded her for many days.

Admiral Adama came to rest outside the entrance to the tent. He checked his watch - first cracking and removing the ice that had formed over its face. He was almost a full half-hour late, as he knew he would be when he made the decision to detour past Thrace's tent. Even from the distance of a few feet, he could feel the temperature-rise inside the tent - it's warmth beckoning him into the diminutive space.

The room inside was filled with the soft vibrations of light snoring coming from the other side of the fire. Adama ventured further in to investigate - failing to notice the basket in the dimmed corner.

What he found was Laura - curled up and asleep by the fire.

He thought seriously about leaving her there - pulling one of the nearby blankets over her, placing another log on the central fire, then leaving her to a peaceful sleep. Delaying his decision by watching her breathe slowly, Bill realised that - tired as she was, 'president' Laura Roslin would want 'admiral' William Adama to wake her so that they could get back to business.

He lowered himself to the floor ignoring the now constant complaints from his cold joints, and called her name - quietly at first. When she didn't respond he brought his hand to her cheek and with the lightest of touches, let his still-frozen fingers brush against her skin. He was surprised - but not conquered, when this failed. Taking a different plan of attack, Bill repositioned himself to be closer to her - enough so that he could bend down next to her ear and announce in his best Admiral tone, "Madame President!"

She startled - rosefixedherhairstraightenedherjumperreachedfortheclosestpencil all in one chaotic sweep of motion. He sat, a little stunned at her reflex reaction, (not to mention how apparently practiced it was).

"Oh," she sighed, relieved, "it's you."

He grinned in mock fun, "It's me."

It took her a few moments to realise that she had completely lost track of time and forgotten the day. "I'm sorry Admiral - I've been all over the place lately and I forgot what day it was."

"That's alright - I have a confession to make as well." she raised her eyebrows ever so slightly, unable to imagine what kind of admission he was about to make. "I was an hour late." he lied - not wanting to admit to watching her sleep for longer than even he would acknowledge.

Laura checked the time, "So you are."

They both retrieted to the safety of their seats and settled comfortably into the roles of respective leaders. Laura led the meeting, producing the same list from last time - only now it was several pages long. Adama smiled - impressed at her efforts - there were a damn sight more than eleven signatures... Not a fully fledged rebellion - but most certainly the beginnings of one.

To Laura's surprise, it was now Bill's turn to retrieve several sheets of paper from his coat and extend them toward her. "I know it's not as impressive as yours - but to my credit, there are fewer people up there than down here now." For reasons unbeknownst to him, he grinned uncontrollably at the hope of her approval.

"This is amazing - the people - how did you?"

"They were all too keen." he stopped her. "We see a lot more of Baltar up there."

"Fair enough." she tried to hand his list back but he refused.

"No, you keep it. You should have it being the leader of the resistance."

She agreed, tucking it back into its secret location. They found it best not to say more than was needed on the subject. People could be listening in anywhere - the less was said, the more was protected. They found most of the time they didn't need to speak anyway - they relied on mutual understanding, a look here - a word there and a complex plan was orchestrated.

It did not escape Bill's notice that Laura looked paler than the last time he was here - though it could have been due to the recent sleep but he feared that the cold and hardship was finally taking its toll on her. "Why don't you come back with me," he began, his speech motivated by something other than rational thought, "you need a break from this place. Let me take you back - you can relax for a while."

Caught off guard she nearly said yes. "Bill - you and I both know that's not an option."

"What is there here for you Laura?"

"The children."

"You have three assistants, they can manage for a couple of days without you - the children too. You need to get out of this cold and-"

"Into the vacuum of space?"

"You know what I mean..."

She did know what he meant - and that's what worried her. If she gave in she wasn't sure she would ever be able to come back. The pair observed each other - determining who would be persuaded first.

An infant's cry cut sharply through the room. For a second Bill thought he had imagined it, but it repeated with more immediate demand. Laura swore beneath her breath and moved over to large basket in the corner of the room - the kind that was designed to be filled with wheat crops from the fields - if there were fields...

Confusion was his first reaction - utter confusion as he watched her pick the tiny child up and bring it close onto her shoulder - rocking it slightly, begging it to quiet down.

Tiny.

Adama, despite his disbelief, understood.

^~^

It had been many, many months since she had felt Adama's guttural voice rip through her with such powerful, disappointed anger.

"Laura..." he had uttered, his eyes locked to hers - their irises shrinking around his swollen pupils, the dark, silent abyss below saying everything he didn't. He'd known - quietly to himself - he had always known. Perhaps on some level he even agreed with her decision. But he had never, ever wanted to see that thing again - least of all in Laura's arms, as if it were her own.

Laura had not asked to be President nor had she aspired to it by any degree, despite this she could sentence Cylons and stupidity alike to the airlock without a flinch - but a small child? She was a school teacher, after all.

He left her that evening without a further word - the child's screams from within her arms following him through the village and out onto the raised lands at the north of the site. She did all she could to quiet it down, but the young Cylon/Human hybrid would not be silenced. It cried and cried until the sun weakly brought New Caprica into the last stages of winter. Ice that had held its grip for so long finally began to crack and fall away. The tents of the settlement lost their crisp, white exterior - patches of green and brown escaping into the weak dawn.

The mother returned the next day, taking her precious infant from Laura with thanks for her time. Laura - still shaken and plagued with residual guilt, declined the woman's offers for further contact with the child, even though the act of letting it go brought a sick feeling to her. Laura had never had children of her own - at least, not for very long...

A month on and Laura had not made contact, she wondered if the Admiral would still come this night.

Caprica's star was setting later now, leaving the once dark land in long periods of twilight. She stood outside, enjoying a rare moment of natural warmth. The Admiral was late, not worryingly so but the thought of him not coming evoked a deep loneliness that had laid quiescent under her brave expression for longer than she cared to remember. That may have explained why she jumped visibly when someone wound their arms protectivly around her waist from behind.

"Gods! Oh -" she didn't know whether to giggle uncontrollably or break down in his arms.

Admiral Adama had spent the first week since their last meeting pacing aggressively around Battlestar - and occasionally Pegasus, snapping at everything and everyone that came into eye-line. Seven days later and the snapping had turned inward, his mind obsessing through the late hours of the evening - come another week he was back to hating her. Hating her for putting herself in such danger, not only from the child but potentially Baltar's unstable mind.

The last week however, saw his nights spent in silence thinking of nothing else but her - and how much he wanted to see her again.

The two pulled back into Laura's tent and into the familiar warm glow - Laura still encircled in Bill's embrace. They stayed like that for a while - feeling nothing but each other - forgetting all else. He held her tighter still and she responded by leaning backwards - letting her head fall back on his shoulder where he then pursued the sensitive skin beneath her ear.

As was always the rule, they broke silently, as if nothing more than a handshake had taken place. Laura made sure the tent was properly sealed before facing the Admiral who had already retreated further toward the fire.

"I - I wasn't sure if you were coming."

He lifted his gaze from the coals to see her nervously linger by the entrance. "I'd be lying if I said I hadn't thought about it." For a brief moment he thought he saw the light catch pre-tear moisture in her eyes. "Not coming back - that is."

"What made you change your mind?"

"It dawned on me what an insensitive Cylon I was being."

The tent went into temporary quiet before a large smile broke across Laura's face then, in a contagious leap, Admiral Adama's lips curled pleasantly upward at the sight of her.

"You've got a - " Laura pointed to the beginnings of a moustache.

"Nothing better to spend my time on." he twitched it slightly and she laughed. "I have something for you."

"I can guess at what it is." she said, remembering the list he had produced at their last meeting.

"I doubt that." he said, withdrawing a small pouch made from the deepest navy velvet.

"What is this?"

"Open it and see."

Suspiciously, Laura undid the delicate string holding the opening closed. Unable to see into the darkness of the bag, she tipped its contents out onto her hand. The glittering surface of the object shone up at her.

"They found it, just out beyond the colony." explained Adama from beside the fire. Laura examined the necklace whose heavy, golden body sunk in the centre around the cut of the jewel. The gold was crafted into two human style figures lifting the spherical stone like a sun above their heads. "They call it 'Prometheus' - the jewel." She moved it about in her hand and from its blood red complexion sprung fourth sparks of orange and gold.

"Beautiful." she paused, "There were humans here then?"

"Once, maybe. Not necessarily - there is always the possibility of similar life arising on this planet."

"Or one of the colonies came here..."

"This is not Earth - of that our scientists are sure."

"As long as that scientist isn't Baltar, I believe them."

"Speaking of Baltar," Adama approached, "we have some very serious problems."

"Tell me something I don't know."

"He seems to have lost the will - he declines any interest in the settlement and instead spends his time bedding whores. We needn't have worried about him watching you - he's not watching anything at the moment. I don't know about you, but I find his apathy more frightening than his paranoia."

"What are you going to do about it?"

"Actually, I hoped you might do something about it."

Laura frowned slightly. "Me?"

"Despite what you may think, he still listens to you."

"That was before I tried to steal an election, before I 'killed' a child." Laura closed her eyes at the mental stumble, why had she brought that back up?

"But you didn't kill the child - and he knows why you stole the election. He is afraid of you and you alone Laura. You are the only one that can destroy him - that is why he will listen to you."

"This will only work once, are you sure that now is the time? Crying wolf more than once sees the whole village eaten..."

"He's ready, on the edge - you have to do this for the colony."

Laura nodded, closing her fist around the necklace. The two commanders stood in the fire-light, both aware of the risk a confrontation with Baltar might cause.

"I'll talk to him, but I sense that I am not the only thing he fears now."

"Thank you." he smiled earnestly, "I have to leave now, there is a particularly strong solar flare due shortly and I can't afford to be caught in transit. This is yours also." he said, extending many sheets of paper. "Everyone save three have signed it - you now have the complete support of the Battlestars."

Laura took the documents from Bill who extended his other hand over hers - holding them there for a moment.

"Until next month."

"Next month."

As abruptly as he had arrived - he was gone, back into the chaotic world outside.

Laura exhaled deeply, Adama had failed to notice the small child asleep beneath the blankets next to the fire. Some promises were harder to keep than others.

*~*

Some call New Caprica the promised land - delivered by the gods for human prosperity. Others call it 'Trela' - madness.

"Will you be alright if I leave you here?"

"Yes, yes of course Admiral."

"I'll be back for you in an hour - no more."

"No more." Laura unhooked herself from the Admiral's arm, glad for the escort. He watched as she pulled the creases out of her old suit - the linen still crumpled from under-use, making sure that she was ready to once again formally assume her role as leader amongst the people of New Caprica. When he was certain he backed up two paces then turned, heading back to his ship leaving Laura Roslin to confront Baltar alone.

The auburn in her hair seemed rich against her navy suit, diagonals of folded white offering distinguished contrast against the otherwise dark appearance. The long months on New Caprica had not wearied the president in her.

"President Baltar will see you now ma’am."

"Thank you Wallace." the man at the door nodded at her approach, remembering the distant fondness of his preferred president as she passed.

*~*

Stepping into Baltar's office was like emerging within a sinister hallucination. Her once pristine room had vanished beneath the violent red and black curtains which hung - twisting their way across and down the room. Beneath these were scattered items of clothing, not all of which "Baltarian" in origin. Piles upon piles of documentation grew from the floors, sprouting forth a jungle of disorder that had overtaken all space reserved for rational thought. It was unsettling, the empty bottles of Ambrosia strewn where clear space dared to emerge - trinkets, similar to that around her neck, left uncared for next to last month's meal.

The desk - rising monolithically from the chaos, carried not a single object.

"Madame Roslin." The voice trailed out from behind its adjoining chair. "What a curious surprise." The chair swiveled to reveal the full extent of Baltar's decay. His dark hair reached his shoulders untamed, stray segments parting to allow parts of his face to protrude.

"Baltar." he leant against the desk, using it for support - an unseen Six laid in exhibition across the scared surface.

"We knew she'd come," coaxed Six, "and now here she is. Tell her - tell her you know why she's here."

"I know why you're here."

"That nothing she says can scare you."

"There is nothing you can say that will intimidate me."

"Because she had nothing."

"Because you have nothing."

Laura stood above him, every feature expressing superiority - nothing scared Baltar more. "I will say this once, and once only." Baltar's untrusting eyes did not leave her. "It's over. New Caprica - all of it. There are no crops, the ground is cold and wet - people are starting to die and they will continue to until we leave this place behind us. They are growing restless, looking for leadership - you must show them it, or if you can't - others will."

"Was that a threat Ms. Roslin?"

"I know who you are, and I know what you did."

"She can't prove it."

"I may not be able to prove it - but do you know what the best part is?"

"And what would that be?"

"I don't have to."

Six slipped into a seated position, the soft curls of her hair resting on his shoulder. "They are turning the colony against you, Roslin and Adama - they must be stopped."

Baltar tried to ignore the distraction of Six, for more than a year now he felt like he couldn't think - that her constant whispering clouded his once sound judgement. Long ago he had been a decent man - he would not go so far as to consider himself a good man, but he had never thought himself capable of such things like the destruction of the entire human race. There were times, more frequent now, that he felt lost and alone within in his own mind. His thoughts were not his own, they were manipulated against his will and the strain was weakening his sanity. Laura Roslin stood for something within him that had been lacking for many months.

Honor. Bravery - in the face of things that really mattered. And courage - it was courage he lacked most of all. He had lacked the courage to withdraw from the election even though he knew, in what was left of his conscience, that holding the presidency presented an unacceptable risk to the human race.

There were times when Baltar was convinced Roslin could see Six, draped across his shoulder - a shadow behind his stance. Sometimes he wished she really could. Then she would understand.

Laura, abandoning her patience for an answer, bent low over Baltar's desk and through the figure of Six so that she could whisper, ever so quietly, to him alone. "I can help you. She betrayed you, didn't she? You don't have to be a slave forever. Let me help you."

*~*

Admiral Adama waited an acceptable distance from the President's office, hands clasped behind as he paced restlessly back and forth.

She surfaced and made her way directly to where the Admiral had arranged to meet her. He was there, already waiting for her even though she was considerably early. They locked arms, and made their way in brisk silence to the waiting Raptor.

*~*

They arrived on Galactica to find the ship all but deserted - it had become so over the recent months as personnel migrated to the mainland. Those that remained were not required to maintain evening shift and so hid away in the depths of the ship to gamble away pointless objects.

"I won't be long," Bill said as he arrived at his quarters, "I just need to pick something up for Starbuck - I promised her last week I would. Please, come in." he disappeared into his quarters leaving Laura in the once familiar room. Despite the time that had passed, it appeared to her the same as it always had. Now she looked at it more closly she realised that nothing had been moved. It was as if they Admiral had not been back here since the day she had lost the election.

A moment of disbelief caught her as her eyes spotted the first hint of faint blue from next to the table. Lowering her eyes she found the ripped remains of prompt cards - the very same ones she had thrown all over these quarters.

Hesitantly, she bent to retrieve one, "Tell Baltar to go -" she smiled, they were hers indeed.

"...Ok, we can go now, I found the -" The Admiral stopped abruptly at the sight of Laura standing amongst the torn remains of her cards. "Oh, I always meant to clean that up." He said, a hint of embarrassment sneaking into his speech.

"No, it's my fault." smiled Laura softly, "I said I'd do it - and I never did."

He approached - slowly, she made no attempt to escape.

After an un-marked period of time he was beside her. "You don't have to do it." he said gently, removing the card from her grasp and letting it fall back to the ground.

Laura and Bill were closer and more alone than they had ever been. The stoic silence of Galactica was far removed from the overcrowded settlement - here no-one was watching, listening, waiting for them to slip up. Here they were only themselves.

Bill slipped one hand gently around her waist.

"Admiral, this is Raptor Three, we are ready for you now sir."

They separated almost at once, disappointment clear on both their faces. Adama swore to himself before answering the radio on the wall.

"Thank you, we will be down shortly."

*~*

The moist night air hung just above the marshes - swirling, mingling with the grassy tuffs that knit the ground together. Miles beyond lapped a warm sea - when Laura closed her eyes she could hear its gentle motion above the insects as she sat, perched on a gentle hill at the edge of the colonized landscape. Beyond was the inhospitable south, only recently defrosted - humming with prehistoric life.

Eerie flatness stretched out under the soft glow of six faint moons, one rising, three setting and two orbiting each other overhead. Unlike the moons of Caprica these were perfectly spherical, their pale faces unblemished by impacts. Laura was waiting for the arrival of their seventh brother, the largest moon of Caprica - Tartarus. This moon burned a violent red - its interior still fiery from birth. Exterior volcanoes spewed forth black smoke and molten rock which glowed in the surface shadows. They had become known as "Fire Rivers" and, with the slow orbit, awaiting its arrival had become quite an event. Soon this outcast would peak above the mist and the pale blue of the evening turn a dusty orange – dripping into the dark water-lands and disappearing from sight.

He leant in further still, the darkness of the room claustrophobic around her. In this closeness Laura could feel his sanity fracturing, "You cannot help me," whispered Baltar so that only she could hear - the unseen form of Six draping around his neck, "no-one can."

The passing glimpses of memory renewed the icy shivers that had entwined themselves down her back. They were too late, it had always been too late - from the moment Baltar had laid eyes upon the blonde beauty and the world had ended.

Without warning the fabric of the world around her shifted, the soft hues of winter bleeding into burnt orange as Tartarus appeared on the horizon. The shadows deepened in the new light - there were things out there not of this world and they hid from sight but always creeping closer, she could feel them in the ground and in the fire of the jewel around her neck.

"You shouldn't be out here, it's not safe after dark."

"It's never safe." Laura responded to the melodiously rough voice on the tree line, its owner not yet crossing into the openness of the night, "It never was."

"It will be again." Adama left the tortured growth to join Laura under the dusk-like sight of Tartarus. "The President instructed me not to see you again."

"I know." she murmured quietly, eyes fixed on the burning orb as the fabric of his coat brushed against her.

"Yet here we are." Laura smiled, knowing his eyes were upon her. "Was he serious?"

"I believe so. He's a troubled man Bill."

"That's what keeps me up through the nights." Bill paused, unsure of how far to go, not certain how much she would divulge. "Is there any hope?"

Laura said nothing at first, the trickles of fire blazing across the night enthralling her. "ekei panta elpida. There is always hope."

"Come on," said Adama placing his hand on her shoulder, "let me take you back to your tent. His spies won't be out on a night like tonight."

She nodded, gripping his other hand which had come down for the taking - Bill pulling her to her feet.

Together they walked the few miles back to settlement, Bill covering her protectively as a stray winter wind found its way back from the departing season.

"Here." he said, holding open the entrance as they arrived at the tent. She was thankful that she was not minding the child this week.

Laura went in first, disappearing beneath the canvas - re-emerging to the remains of the fire still glowing hot after hours of neglect. She went to attend to it and within a few minutes the room was aglow with the familiar wavering light that Bill had grown to crave.

"Admiral, we are not yet strong enough to mount any kind of resistance against Baltar's government." he watched as she came to rest in the chair opposite, "People are too busy struggling with every day existence to spend energy on politics."

"I heard the Chief has been making headway."

"The fruits of that remain to be seen - but if he can hold a successful leadership over the workers then he is the key. His support will effectively deliver the support of the majority."

"Let me talk to him. I haven't yet congratulated him on his wife's pregnancy - Baltar won't suspect."

They were a pair of few words, their time composed of moments spent in silent company. His expression had deepened, the lines that once scarred his face now storing within them memories of passed time - left behind as a map for all to read - pieces of his character surfacing, interlacing and disappearing once again beneath secretive skin. She had changed also, transformed subtly as if the very essence of New Caprica itself were absorbing into her - becoming her. She was no longer a president for the people, but a president of the people.

Tension literally hung from the air - neither wanting to break it - both enjoying the danger it promised.

Unexpectedly the tent tried to free itself from the ground, the pegs straining against the wind.

"What was that?" said Adama as he rose from the chair.

"There's another storm coming." breathed Laura calmly.

"But there was barely a cloud when I flew overhead earlier."

"These come from the South, as if out of nowhere. If you intend to spend the night on Galactica you should leave now. They tend to get dangerous." she added.

Adama unzipped the tent enough to peer out. Dark storms clouds had blocked out almost all light, their swirling madness commanding the land around. "I think it's too late for that."

She agreed, securing the entrance. You'll have to stay here until it passes - they don't last more than a few hours. He nodded and the pair returned to the fire.

Laura turned, weaving her way to the exit. "Ms. Roslin -" she stopped, hearing Baltar rise from the desk. "Six weeks from now you are to come back with a proper progress report, do you understand?"

She felt the tiniest flicker of hope emerge from the darkness around, "I understand -" she stopped briefly before continuing, "I understand perfectly."

*~*

The explosion could be heard from Laura's tent on the far side of the settlement. A thunderous shaking of the earth partnered to a fiery plume of rock and white hot ash - it climbed up toward the sky, fire bursting fourth sporadically from beneath the blackness. People stepped out from their tents or stopped in the streets - all eyes focused on the ridge behind the settlement.

"What's going on?" said Adama still inside the tent. Laura didn't respond, only watched as the dark cloud clawed its way to the first layers of atmosphere, secondary explosions now coming thick and fast. "Gods - what the frak is that?" he emerged from the tent to stand next to her.

Everyone stood there - just watching, mouths agape at the growing wall of fire.

Somewhere far off men were shouting and screaming. The Chief, half buried, struggled free of the rubble to search for his workers. There was no air - only hot, choking fallout, the heat still radiating down from the fireball above. "Move!" he shouted, stumbling in the eerie red landscape under the cloud, "Move!"

Bill and Laura stood with everyone else, lost for action. It wasn't until the debris began to return to New Caprica's surface that people really panicked.

"Laura watch out!" Bill pulled her back - the two of them falling over each other, into the tent. The unique sound of rock smacking into mud filled their senses. The loudness was unbelievable.

Laura found her world to be completely black. She froze in confusion for a moment before she realised that the Admiral was lying on top of her - protecting her from the chaos. He rolled off gently - clearly needing a second to recover from the exertion.

"Admiral!" Laura sat up then crawled over to where Bill had let out a painful groan, his hands held to his chest.

"I'm fine, I'm fine." he lied as his old injury stung beyond his pain tolerance level. "Just - give me a minute."

She nodded, assessing that he was not badly hurt. Laura tried standing, her head colliding with heavy tent canvas. She ducked back down, tilting her gaze to find the front half of her tent collapsed.

"That was close." Adama shifted onto his side, then onto his knees.

"You're not wrong."

Together they managed to make it out of the tent, thank the gods it wasn't on fire - the heavy rain at noon a grace for once. Perhaps it was the steady fading light of dusk, or the three moons glittering overhead serving as a backlight - whatever it was, the blaze was spectacularly beautiful in a morbidly fascinating way. "Oh my gods - " Laura held the remains of the tent, "that's the mining camp."

"Come on." Adama grabbed hold of her hand and started to lead her through the ruined settlement, dust now raining down rendering everyone a monotonous grey.

"Where are we going Admiral?"

"To find out what's going on."

*~*

Laura and Adama made it easily to the Admiral's Raptor. It was undamaged, the crew standing outside watching the spectacular event unfold.

"Sir, Ma'am." said a young Lieutenant as they approached - two more men turned and came to attention. They had managed to escape the majority of the fallout, you could tell by their degree of 'grayness'.

"Report." Adama came to rest, Laura not far behind.

"I don't know sir."

"Anything over the transmission?"

The man shook his head. "Nothing sir."

"Must be too early." he said, turning to Roslin.

"Will you and the President be returning to Galactica?" Laura wasn't sure if it was a slip of tongue by the young man - or a purposely defiant comment against Baltar's government. Either way, she found herself surprised by the sudden and unexpected use of her title.

"Madame President?" The Admiral extended the invitation to join him, the Lieutenant seemed to have started a trend.

"I - " she watched the cloud, now past its peak intensity, drift lazily above the land - imposing even in its death. There were so many people - reasons she shouldn't leave - the young child for one, Maya had taken her for an afternoon walk during the Admiral's meeting - goodness knows what could have happened to them out in the open.

Standing there though, in front of the waiting Raptor - Laura felt what she thought she never would again. It was like something from a memory, something she had forgotten for too long. All of the men stood, eyes fixed on her with respect - hope. "I - if you would be so kind."

The Admiral stepped aside as the Lieutenant helped her up into the ship - and in that moment, though layers of New Caprica hid all visible evidence, she became the President all over again.

*~*

The mining site was devastated - the Chief stood in front of a group of tired and injured men. Most of them were not recognizable by sight, their features completely concealed under the black soot and shreds of fabric left behind from their uniforms. Some were bleeding, most were clutching some part of their body in pain - the very act of standing a stretch of their will.

The Chief stumbled down the group, counting. Forty-Eight. Twelve were missing.

He knew already that this disaster was likely a human error. His men were tired - hungry, sick and overworked. Baltar's regime had been criticized for the relentless stress it placed upon the union - now the union had been given a hand to win them all.

*~*

Laura sat opposite the Admiral in the Raptor, both of them looking as if they'd survived another apocalypse. The ride out was smooth and fast - the pilot clearly experienced though he did stumble a little on the landing. Laura suspected it was the result of the precious few hours these men now spent in the air.

Word traveled fast once people escaped the initial shock - someone even remembered to inform President Baltar who immediately ordered a line to Adama requesting an urgent meeting. The Admiral had agreed - he was not one to refuse Baltar just yet.

The Admiral and Laura departed the Raptor and headed straight for his quarters, both in need of some serious cleaning up. Thankfully Tigh had been informed of the situation and Ellen had offered to take Roslin in and clean her up. She did so, departing his quarters with the intent of meeting up in an hour - President Baltar in for more than he had bargained.

*~*

She is fragile, a beast that struggles with two extremes of truth. Decide not what is best for one - or the other, but that which combines - encompasses the two as one. Civillisation is so - not a compramise, but a merger of hope and desire.

*~*

Battlestar Galactica - In orbit above New Caprica
27:46
Six months of Colonial Occupation

New Caprica drifted idly below Galactica's hull - burnt hues, smudges of blue and green bleeding in upon the blurred skyline. Beyond this was an eerie stillness. A darkness through which Adama could see nothing but distant flickers of light, far off in its deepness.

He broke contact with the sight, sliding its melancholy beauty behind his stoic features. The Admiral was tired - Bill felt it as he leant forwards over the table resting his arms on its hardened surface - a faint mirage of himself lingering, visible over the polish in the dim light of his quarters.

Adama waited for the distinct cry of his radio, picking it up as it broke harshly into the silence.

"Adama - yes, thank you." He held the phone with his shoulder, his now free hand moving for a nearby pen. The call re-connected, immediately flooding the room with noise. Wind played on the open line, shepherding waves of static through the Chief’s broken speech, obscuring it almost beyond comprehension. Eyes focused, Bill strained to hear the panicked words spilling over the radio - almost able to make out the Chief's form kneeling on the scorched ground. His face blackened - swarms of people mingling with smouldering stone and wood with the receiver held high against the gusts that pushed cruelly with strength beyond reason.

"Galactica this is - " harsh grating climaxed once again before tapering off, " -prica base Four requesting assistance. -ort -osion on mining site. Repeat, have experienced large explosion on -te. We have ten -sulalties up to thirty inju - quest immediate medical assi - nd fire - rol crews."

Adama spoke out over the line with a voice clear of emotional distortion, his tone practiced and calm, "New Caprica Base Four; this is Galactica. Copy that. Assistance being deployed ASAP." He repeated the message twice more as the quality of the line disintegrated. "Hold tight - Galactica out."

He made a further call to Dr. Cottle, alerting his temporary hospital of the approaching human tide. The Dr. had laughed at Bill's call, half mad - part distant removal. It seemed the good doctor had already seen the first wave converge and break over his clinic.

After this Adama thought for a moment, fingers tapping the dark plastic of the phone.

The world continued to move beneath; he watched the swirling motion of ice-laden clouds fighting constantly against the shifting plates of molten earth. Clouds pulled, rock pushed and between them existed a fragile shell desperately resisting the urge to shatter and vanish. New Caprica was two worlds caught as one, the silent struggle made obvious only when viewed in their mutual hostility.

Adama's fingers continued to fall in succession, his mind calculating that which threatened to pass.

*~*

Laura smelt the ash which clung to her skin, exhaling sharply she continued rubbing - hurrying it from her pale complexion with the damp towel. The hands of the wall clock nearby caused her to swear quietly, her mind over-conscious of the time which seemed to tick past without restraint.

Beaten, Laura surrendered to her still disheveled appearance and emerged from the bathroom in the skirt suit Ellen had kindly leant. Even in her haste Laura took a moment to pause at its lustrous surface. The otherwise deep black weave was broken by a finely sewn, single threaded gold pattern barely visible unless the light reflected just so. The thread traced its way across the endless darkness in what appeared as blind, random motion that only turned to crafted beauty once viewed in its completeness. Care had gone into its construction - talent, imagination and love. Threads which held in them more than could be expressed in words. A deeply complex and rich society lingered in this garment, its heritage seeping through despite years of neglect.

A few minutes later and Laura was presentable - at first glance at least. If you looked too closely her hair lacked that dark vibrancy and the odd streak of mud appeared from her cream skin.

However the time was urgent and the hour late. She thanked Ellen who had waited patiently at the door before heading toward the Admiral's quarters where together they would make the trip to Colonial One.

*~*

Colonial One - in orbit above New Caprica
28:32
One hour twenty minutes after mining disaster.

"Pay attention."

"I am." protested President Baltar as he attempted to tie the material around his neck. Six took his hands, taking over the job for him.

"You're President of the Colonies - act like you can handle it."

"Look, none of this is my fault. The safety measures in place for that mine are more than adequate, provided people don't go drilling in the wrong places."

"Gaiuss your people are sick and they're tired - show some pity. God would be ashamed to see you treat his people like this."

Baltar took his tie and tightened it himself. "God is the least of my problems. Roslin and the Admiral are on their way, I'm not even sure why I still agree to see her, she is nothing now. She's not even in the Quorum." He bent down and removed the Ambrosia bottles from the floor, placing them in his private section behind the desk - freeing the dust laden curtains to cover the space. "I have a good mind not to see her."

"I don't like it when you get like this." Six folded her arms and disappeared leaving Baltar alone to face questioning.

"Great," he muttered, "that's just what I need."

There was a quick knock at the door before his new aid entered - the previous having left shortly after Roslin's last visit, "Mr. President, Admiral Adama and Laura Roslin are here, shall I send them in?"

"Thank you, send in the Admiral," a flicker of rebellion made its presence known in Baltar's eye, "and kindly ask Ms. Roslin to wait outside."

There was a brief moment of confusion before the aid nodded and disappeared. Baltar was surprised - but not shocked, when Roslin entered his office ahead of the Admiral.

"I thought I asked you to wait outside." uttered Baltar casually, feigning interest in an idle report. Laura was not amused.

"This is no time for silly games Baltar."

He dropped the report on a cluttered desk, "As President of the Colonies, I get to decide which games are frivolous."

"Keep repeating the title Dr. maybe some responsibility will sink in." The Admiral came to rest behind Laura as a silent support, fighting hard to prevent pride escaping onto his surface features as she tore the president to shreds.

"Careful Madame - forgive me, bad memory, what is your title these days?" The Admiral flinched, Baltar had her there.

Laura - unfazed, found a clear space on the dark wood where she could place her hands, before leaning in over the table towards Baltar. Invading - shattering his personal space.

"This is serious." she whispered. "Baltar - for the first time you're facing the - "Laura stopped, briefly unable to form the words she desperately needed to say, "facing the - "she tried again only this time Baltar's deeply terrified face briefly merged completely with the dark interior of his office. Laura blinked, her hands on the table now supporting most of her weight.

It was then that Roslin felt the warm liquid cutting a path down her skin, its deepness seemingly eternal on her cream cheek.

A droplet of red broke loose and collided with Baltar's desk, a microscopic red haze misting across the surface. Baltar's eyes lifted to see a gash along the side of Roslin's face running next to her ear - slightly below the hair line.

Actual concern turned Baltar's features, "Gods, you're hurt."

Laura hadn't registered pain yet and lifted her hand absently to where Baltar was transfixed - removing it to find a smear of blood.

Adama stepped forward.

The room blurred a little and Laura became momentarily disoriented.

"I'm fine." she managed before consciousness left her entirely.

*~*

Battlestar Galactica

She was surprised to wake up under the warmth of blankets on the Admiral's couch. He sat across from her at his desk, shuffling papers quietly so as not to disturb her – radio set to silent. She smiled sleepily up at him, still slightly unsure as to how she arrived there. It took several minutes before the Admiral realised she was awake and smiling warmly in his direction.

“Welcome back.” He said softly, pretending to still be interested in the papers before him when all he could really think about was how her collapse had reminded him of her final days of cancer. She had been weak again - fragile. Adama could not bear seeing a strong leader like Laura Roslin as fragile.

Reality hit the dreamy peace causing Laura to cringe at the pain which pulsed through into her head. She must have grimaced because the Admiral had left his seat and arrived by her side with a glass of water and small tablet in an instant.

“No.” she waved off the pill but accepted the water, “Save those for when we really need them.”

The Admiral felt certain that this was probably one of those times but didn’t push the issue further remembering how Laura must be accustomed to pain given her last year. He smiled appreciatively and replaced the glass on the table.

“So, what happened there?” said Laura, regaining her composure.

He hinted to the side of her head just past her ear – she lifted her hand up to find the area covered in a bandage. “Oh.”

“It appears that you may have hurt yourself back down there on the planet, the medic thinks it's nothing more serious than a mild concussion. Provided you stay put here for a while, you should be fine.”

“Damn,” whispered Laura, rubbing her head in the next wave of pain. She adjusted the pillow so she could sit comfortably.

“Can I get you anything Madame President?”

“You know,” she managed as she laid back with eyes closed, hand resting on the side of her head, “you’re going to get in trouble if you keep referring to me as ‘Madame President’.”

“Apologies Laura." he smiled that smile that few people had been privileged with, "You gave Baltar quite a scar there for a while – collapsing in his office.”

“Baltar wouldn’t care if I lived or died. That man lives in his own little world twenty-four seven these days.”

“That’s not entirely the case – I think a world without Laura Roslin, especially in times like these, is not something he wants." Adama shifted his tone to emphasize his level of sincerity, "Laura, he doesn’t know how to handle the crisis on New Caprica – he doesn’t know the first thing about running a civilization let alone handling an emergency. He’s a scientist – he’s not used to making quick decisions so he has no intuition for situations like this. Laura," Bill said finally, "he’s lost.”

For the moment Laura merely absorbed the character detail of Baltar and instead inquired after the Colony, “And the situation on New Caprica – what are the developments – how long was I out of the loop?”

“Laura, you’ve been asleep for eleven hours.” He lowered his eyes a little from her, clearly her concussion had been more to be concerned about then he had first let on. “I’m afraid you gave us all a little bit of a scar.”

“Eleven hours…”

“All members of the colony are now accounted for; the last survivor was pulled from the wrecked remains of the mine about an hour and a half ago. Cottle and his team have managed to save almost everyone – but we did lose some.”

“Gods… how many?”

“Nine in all.”

“And the Chief?”

“He’s doing well, minor burning and smoke inhalation. But as tragic as the human cost has been, it’s the societal upheaval I’m concerned about.”

“How bad?” When Bill didn’t say anything at first, Laura turned, shifting herself off the pillow to face him properly, “Bill, how bad?”

Adama sat forward reluctantly, “This could be the start of the Resistance.”

“It’s too early! There’s not enough people to mount a successful resistance yet – surely they can see that.”

“The people are not thinking straight – they’re motivated by emotion, not reason Laura. They’ve had a bad six months and they see this as possibly their only chance to raise the masses against Baltar. The question here Laura is to we accept the Union’s request to lead the rebellion or not...”

“Bill, this can’t be allowed to go ahead, it’s going to end in disaster, I can feel it –“

“I agree," he cut in, "but it appears that there is nothing we can do about it now – the situation has escalated to near breaking point. The Chief is on the planet now just waiting for you to wake up and make your decision so that they can go ahead.”

Laura thought carefully, “We have some time then.”

“What do you mean?”

“All I need is twenty minutes, I’m going to go back and talk to Baltar. There is a solution here that doesn’t risk the future of the Colonies – I just need some time.”

“Laura no. You’re not well, you need to rest otherwise you could get worse.”

“It won’t matter if this is allowed to get out of control. Please.”

It would matter to me. But he didn’t say the words, only thought them. She was right, she was always right and though he didn’t want to let her do what she needed to do – he offered her his hand and helped her up – she faltered once as another sharp stab of pain cut through. He did not renew his request for her to stay out of respect for her strength.

“At least do one thing for me – take this before your go.”

“Bill…”

“You’re no good to anyone – the people included, if you pass out again.” She agreed and was silently thankful as the small tablet reduced the pain to an occasional dull throb. Adama held onto her hand - and she entwined her fingers in his as he led her across the room.

*~*

Colonial One

“Roslin, you’re up and about.” Balter stood, a little surprised to see her so soon.

“Baltar I haven’t come for small talk.” This threat was clear, the bandage on her face the only sign of weakness visible on her fiery demeanor. Baltar exhaled deeply, realising that the chances of him escaping this lecture were slim to none.

“I guessed as much.”

“You have on your hands one of the most dangerous circumstances this fleet has faced.”

“Yes thank you, I am acutely aware of the Chief’s demands and I'm making plans accordingly.” he drew her attention to the loose files strewn across his office. "As you can see."

And Laura was there. This was it - thought Laura, the moment had arrived where she had to make the choice whether or not to reveal the existence of the resistance to Baltar.

So far, as a movement, their greatest strength and largest playing card was secrecy. If Baltar didn't know about their growing numbers then recruiting and organizing was easier. Certainly he was not entirely ignorant - far from it. But the moment it was confirmed, regardless of the outcome of this situation - people would be employed to investigate them - arrest them. Adama and Roslin the worst as its leaders. The hole ran deep and Baltar would likely not stop until he found murky floor.

“Baltar," she challenged, "you are in a position where your place as president and leader of the Colonies might be challenged.”

“Was that a legitimate threat Roslin or are you just warming up?”

“I’m serious. You may have won the election –“

“An election which you tried to rig.”

“That’s not the issue here. Times have changed and they’ve changed a lot. The people aren’t so keen about the poetical sky and fantasy of a solid ground. Now they’re worried about their survival – and their want to find Earth is being made stronger every day as their circumstance fails to improve – in fact it only gets worse. With each passing month there is something new to deal with – to fight against. Now it’s not the Cylons that hang over their shoulder, always lurking in the background of their thought. No, instead it’s the cold, or the wet or the crops that refuse to grow, or worse still the flu which is threatening to become a pandemic. People are starting to want out and unless you give some indication that you are at least trying to think of a way to make their lives better – worth living, then you’re going to have to start making some tough choices. Like whether or not we re-instate the search for earth." Baltar shifted uncomfortably.

"Black and white Baltar - like the sky you drift through day in day out. There is a people, and there is a government - they oppose and they support. You, you need to find delicate balance. It's not too late, make a deal with the Union. Dodge this bullet and live to see the next battle - for all our sakes."

They stayed locked in silence, two presidents, two leaders.

One choice.

*~*

The people of New Caprica shook in the aftermath of the disaster. Scores of people scoured the land with their many hands, lifting the bodies of their fellow man from the blackened rubble beneath the twisting pyre of smoke finally sprawling its way to nothing. They began to see, body after body emerged, brave men - men who had already survived so only to face their end beneath foreign soil; and they began to despair.

Then despair turned to pain - and pain to strength. With strength they searched and hauled and saved lives. When there were no souls left to save, their strength looked for purpose. It fell to the government, the people's strength flowing easily through conduits carved by Baltar. Their strength was rebellion, their purpose was freedom.

*~*

Battlestar Galactica

The Admiral let his eyes drift, like the planet below, down to the words hastily scrawled earlier that day on the corner of a forgotten report. Eleven-Nine-Nine-Hermes. Adama breathed - Bill stopped.

Eventualities cascading with the starlight as it filled his eyes.

*~*